


Doctor You (Call The Doc)

by Idunn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, fat reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idunn/pseuds/Idunn
Summary: After the Eurus thing, John just wishes for a little bit of peace and quiet. Its just a shame that this two things are not in the cards for him. A new pawn is in the board.Featuring an anxious and overprotective Sherlock (even when he denies to be so).
Relationships: John Watson/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Doctor You (Call The Doc)

So, as the girl looks at him from the other side of the couch and with his Blackberry in hand, John tries to get Rosie to take her bottle.

«This is a new one. Anthea is not "retired"… I saw her myself last Tuesday, in Mycroft's office. I guess he needs more than one close minion. But she looks too young for this job? Surely Sherlock would say "I look and I don't observe", but try to deduce anything, I dare you Sherlock, with a wiggling infant in your lap!»

John deflates somewhat. As Rosamund feeds herself from the bottle currently in John's hand, he tries to make a little of small talk.

\- He must be coming our way. He phoned, ah... Fifteen minutes ago to say he was at St. Bart's and coming home... And if you need to leave that - said John making a gesture to the big, bulging brown envelope in the girl's hand - you can leave it with me and go. I'll make sure that he will read it.-

«She (a girl? A woman?) blushes very prettily... No, don't think that! You're a widow with a little girl, no one wants that?! Maybe this is his first assignment... Seeing if she can get Sherlock to look at something... But I don't think Mycroft is so cruel as doing that to the poor girl.»

\- No need for that, sir - she says, getting up. - Do you mind... if I make a cup of tea for myself? I can make one for you, if you want. Is just that... Today I didn't have any coffee because my stomach feels a little funny, and if I keep at having the runs, Ill lose another stone - her whole face becomes this big, red thing - Oh my God, I’m sorry! - she says, her hands covering her flaming cheeks. 

John smiles.  
\- I'm an ex army doctor, sweetheart. Not much could surprise me. How long since your stomach is been bothering you? Most of the time, too much coffee and little food could do that to you.- 

The girl walks to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and getting mugs and spoons from the wreck that is the place. John hopes the jar full of pickled bees don't scare her.

She comes back, a tray with a full service of tea, pitching the whole thing over the coffee table.

\- I don't need too much food, doctor - she says, making a gesture over her belly, thighs and bum. Now John is the one flushing; he has to make a considerable effort not to check her out again - after all, people working for Mycroft tend to be beautiful, and this one is not exception. A little bit too much on the plump side, sure, but gorgeous all the same. He tries to distract himself with his little girl, who still is suckling from the bottle, but at a much more sedated pace. 

She's going to fall asleep soon.

\- Every body needs sustenance... Miss...- he looks at her, with a quizzical expression  
\- Idunn, sir. Of course, it's not...- she makes this complicated gesture.  
\- Not your real name, I get it - said John, taking the cup of tea she gives him. A little too much sugar, but good all the same. - So, first you need to be sure you're getting at least eight hours of sleep a day and two full meals of something that not includes caffeine as a food group - he says, from behind his cup, a drifting baby in his arms. He takes the bottle out of his sleeping daughter's little hands, and walks to the cot in the corner of the room, near the window. Today is another cloudy day. He tucks his baby in, her face slack with sleep. 

He turns to the couch and Idunn is snickering between her hands, trying not to laugh.  
\- Do you know how many hours I had of sleep last night, doctor? Five hours and is the best I've slept all week!- she whispers, handing him his cup again.  
\- So, maybe your work acts as a stressor, and if your daily habits are not the best... Of course would take its toll.-  
\- Once a doctor, always a doctor, innit?- she says, her hair shining in the bright light of the flat. 

\- You can take the doctor out of the clinic... Yeah. But I have a lot of practice, with attending to Sherlock and my daughter, so another patient is not big deal - he sits at the couch again, closer than the first time. He can see the signs. They didn't call him "Three Continents Watson" for no reason. And if a beautiful (but young. Youngish?) woman wanted to flirt with him...

Is too long since he had sex. Bollocks, since he had more than a friendly hug. And Sherlock has been better about physical affection, and Miss Hudson and even Molly had taken he time to be there for him, is just not the same. 

He has a lot he needs to unpack, to work in. But no therapists for a while.

She looks at him in an inquisitive way, and John then knows she asked him something, and he has been too engrossed in himself to hear her.

\- I’m sorry, what did you said? - he asks, scrubbing his face with both hands. Rosie had a bad time sleeping last night, so John is running in fumes right now. When Sherlock gets home, he gets to sleep. 

«I swear, if that posh bastard don’t get home in the next ten minutes or some, so help me God...»

\- You can close your eyes if you want, doctor. Ill keep an eye in your baby. After all, I still need to wait... - she said, a tiny smile in her lips.  
\- Oh no, I couldn’t! - he says, eyes dropping a bit and sitting straighter in the couch. - I can’t take a nap with a guest in the flat, that is just... rude -  
\- Not a guest, doctor... just a courier right now. - She gets up again, collecting the mugs of cold tea in the tray - I make a decent cup of coffee, or at least my boss think so. Care for one?-  
\- John, please. And yes, thank you. Is very rare that I get someone to make me a cuppa, so, this is weird...- he says, feeling embarrassed. Idunn walks to the kitchen and starts to tinker with the kettle and opening and closing doors.  
\- Be careful, the coffee is the one on the right with the red tag, the one with a blue label is a sand sample...- and this is the last thing John remembers before closing his eyes.

When John wakes up from his impromptu nap, there’s no girl, nor cup of coffee before him. But Sherlock is now back, mobile in hand, and little Rosie is playing in the floor with a striped tiger. No signs of a big envelope in the table, or next to the computer. John yawns, and gets up to the kitchen were everything is clean and in his place. Filling up a glass of water from the tap, John pads to the sitting room, where Sherlock is looking at his mobile, but spares a single second to deliver a severe glare in his direction.

\- John, is time to admit you have a problem. You’re supposed to be a military man, trained to be ever vigilant of danger... and you fall sleep in the presence of a possible killer?

John stops cold.

\- A killer? Who’s a killer? Oh for Goddam... your brother’s new aide? - he gives his glass of water a big gulp, dropping in the table later. Rosie looks at him, distracted by the loud noise of the glass over the hard surface. - She looked... harmless enough. A young...-  
\- ... cute thing, really? Of course my brother has you completely figured out, but after... after Mary - said Sherlock, slowly, like ripping a band-aid - I hoped you would be more... careful.-

John drops to Rosie in the floor, checking her out. No marks of any kind, no wounds: she is exactly as he left her a couple of hours ago, a pink-cheeked blonde baby. The only thing new was...

\- Yes, the tiger. Is harmless, of course; I’ve already checked it. Well, it has a tracker in it, of course, but I think it could be useful...-

\- A tracker??!- John bellowed, Rosie still in his arms, and feels her trembling - Tell your idiotic brother to STOP WITH THE SURVELLIANCE! We are adults, for God’s sake! And I can take care of us! I don’t need his interference!  
\- Well clearly you need it, WE NEED IT! If you fall asleep with a killer in the room!-  
\- Is she a killer? Or are you just looking for a motive to be an overprotective piece of work, SHERLOCK?

At this, Sherlock shrinks. 

\- I don’t think my brother has bad intentions towards Us, John. Is just... Eurus is still...-  
\- Yeah... I know - John looks at little Rosie’s face; his little one is making a pout, her eyes full of tears. John shushes her, and starts to talk to her in a funny voice, going around the room and showing her all the little titbits and knick-knacks on the room, until she calms down. 

After tucking her in again, John drops to the couch in a heap. Sherlock seems engrossed in his laptop, until John asks:  
\- Do you really think... she could be dangerous?  
\- If she’s working for my brother? Of course she is. Don’t think about what she looked like, think about how did you feel when she was on the room, John... Oh... was she beautiful? Well, people is often more pliable to the influence of beautiful people. Just another weapon for a... an asset, lets call it.-

John feels a wave of shame, his hands clenching and unclenching.

\- Could you...? - he asks Sherlock, who nods. - I want to take a shower and go to sleep. I’m knackered. - Sherlock waves him on, already at the laptop again. John takes his clothes to the bathroom, the mirror already fogging in the warm heat of the shower.

«She didn’t look like a killer, or a nutter. But Sherlock is right. After Mary... and Eurus. Nothing is like it seems. Don’t forget, there’s a lot of crazies in the world still.»

But that night, sleep came late and slowly, creeping into him like molasses, and with her smile in mind he dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you want the next chapter!


End file.
